Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

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Recordings

Iain Burnside and Ailish Tynan return to Signum with their second disc of Irish Songs and arrangements—this time from a range of different twentieth Century composers, including John Cage, Samuel Barber, Benjamin Britten and Herbert Hughes.» More

'This is a superb collection… This will be one of my favorite sets of 1995' (Fanfare, USA)'Delivered faultlessly. The Plough Boy whistles jauntily, the bluebells ring in The Ash Grove, the Miller of Dee sings at his workplace. Exquisite' (T ...» More

'Not in the profoundest Schubert, the most exquisite Fauré, has either of them performed with more delicacy and refinement, more tenderness, humour, a ...'A delightful and diverse selection … strangely haunting' (BBC Music Magazine)» More

Details

’Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone; All her lovely companions are faded and gone; No flow’r of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, or give sigh for sigh.

I’ll not leave thee, thou, lone one, to pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o’er the bed Where thy mates of the garden lie senseless and dead.

So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, And from love’s shining circle the gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither’d, and fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

’Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone; All her lovely companions are faded and gone; No flow’r of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, or give sigh for sigh.

I’ll not leave thee, thou, lone one, to pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o’er the bed Where thy mates of the garden lie senseless and dead.

So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, And from love’s shining circle the gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither’d, and fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

’Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone; All her lovely companions are faded and gone; No flow’r of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, or give sigh for sigh.

I’ll not leave thee, thou, lone one, to pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o’er the bed Where thy mates of the garden lie senseless and dead.

So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, And from love’s shining circle the gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither’d, and fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit this bleak world alone?